Chapter 4 #2
Since my department insists on hot desking, you never know when you’re going to end up in a random corner of the office, miles from your colleagues.
But today, that’s exactly what I need. The minute I’m alone at a desk, I approach my problem like I would any other work task.
First, let’s establish my objective: I need to convince the British Embassy that I have a stable partner in my life, but I don’t need to convince anyone to move to Greece with me.
All I need is someone for the application process.
For a position of this nature, partners are likely to be invited to participate, but only for one or two events at most. They’re not the ones who will be signing a contract.
The British Embassy might be biased towards hiring someone with a partner, but they can’t suddenly fire me because I’ve had a break-up and Edwin the orthodontist or whoever is pretending to be him will no longer be joining me in Athens.
But where am I going to find this mythical person? Last night was only part one of an exhausting three-day state visit, which continues tonight with another high-profile reception at the British Museum. I need someone who’s willing to accompany me.
I start googling escort agencies. There’s one called Toy Boy Warehouse, which sounds lots of fun, but perhaps not quite right for this particular engagement.
In fact, none of the sites geared towards women are very suitable, while the few that are aimed at gay men are all about sex.
Either way, I have doubts about the guys being advertised.
Even the ones who claim to offer stimulating conversation look like they are better equipped to stimulate me in other areas.
They can hardly compete with the brilliant Flora Forbes.
Then it hits me – I don’t need an escort.
I need an actor. I can create the perfect boyfriend and hire someone to play him.
All he needs to do is look the part and be good at acting.
The one snag in this plan is that I only have a few hours to find this elusive man, but every actor I’ve ever met has been desperate for work. There has to be someone out there.
I find an online directory of acting agencies.
As soon I get out of the office for my lunch break, I call them one by one, but the few that answer hang up the moment I explain what I’m looking for.
Then one agency catches my eye. It’s based in Kennington, unlike all the others which are in Soho.
The description lists its founder as a legendary industry maverick. It’s worth a shot.
I call the number, but it goes to voicemail. I leave a message, but as I explain that I’m looking to hire a fake boyfriend, I feel stupid. Why would anyone take me seriously? However, as I’m buying myself a meal deal in Tesco, the number calls me back. I pick up frantically.
‘Hello,’ says the woman. ‘This is Doily speaking.’
‘Sorry, did you say Doily?’
‘Yes. I just had a call from this number.’
‘Yes! Did you get my voicemail?’
Doily tuts. ‘I don’t listen to voicemails. I thought you might be calling about the Gummy Bear situation.’
‘What? No, sorry.’
I take a beat, trying not to panic that this woman sounds completely loopy.
‘I was hoping you could help me with something else. I’m looking to hire an actor.’
She lets out a sigh of annoyance, which I have to say is not a great sign for an acting agent.
‘I’m rather busy,’ she says. ‘Have you filled out our contact form?’
‘Er . . . no.’
‘Could you do that?’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘Is there a medical reason?’
‘What?’
‘A medical reason you can’t fill out the contact form.’
I take a deep breath. ‘There is, yes.’
‘Ooh. What’s that then?’
‘It’s, er, it’s . . . private.’
I’m sensing that Doily is disappointed, although even at this early stage of our acquaintance, I’ve learned not to assume anything.
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘so it would be great if I could just tell you what I’m looking for, and you can tell me if you’re able to help.’
‘Fire away.’
I hesitate. What I’m about to ask is kind of insane, even for a woman who hardly seems like she does things by the book. Maybe I should keep it ambiguous.
‘It’s a bit of a weird one, Doily. I suppose you could call it immersive theater.’
‘Ooh, I love a bit of that.’
‘It’s great, isn’t it? I need an actor who can operate in a professional setting. And I need them tonight. There might be some foreign travel, but I’d cover expenses.’
‘Expenses? Is there a fee?’
Damn. I hadn’t thought that far. ‘I can pay, obviously. But I’m not loaded.’
‘Not to worry.’
I must have misheard her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The only people with money these days are these godawful sequels and reboots. You wouldn’t believe how many Oscar winners are doing the Hungry Hungry Hippos live-action feature. I’m a big believer in supporting real art. I’d be happy to waive my commission if the project’s worth doing.’
‘Wow,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me yet. Tell me what you’re looking for.’
I’m liking her more by the second.
‘I need someone talented, Doily. He has to be able to play charming, but no nonsense. A safe pair of hands.’
I recall my conversation with Mariam at Buckingham Palace.
‘It would be great to find someone with a bit of an edge. Someone who’s prepared to have the tough conversations. Oh, and it would help if he’s handsome.’
Doily tuts. ‘What does that matter?’
‘It’s always an advantage.’
‘Acting comes from the soul.’
‘Of course, it’s just—’
‘You want a hottie. Fine. Any other requirements?’
This is looking up. ‘I mean, it would be wonderful if you have someone who’s familiar with Greece.’
‘Greece? Are you a fan?’
‘You could say that.’
Just then, I hear a mobile ringtone on the end of the line.
‘Bollocks!’ says Doily. ‘I’m going to have to go.’
‘But we haven’t even—’
‘Yes we have,’ says Doily. ‘Leave it with me. I’ve got just the chap for you.’